Chapter 20

The trickle of water calmed my nerves. I stared at the frozen figures of Eros and Psyche, wrapped in a passionate embrace. Psyche had fallen for Eros blindly, not knowing the man, the god, who made love to her every night in the dark. When she finally saw his true form, she lost him, forced to wander and seek him out across the heavens, the earth, and the underworld. I wondered at this as the slow, waking sounds of the city rose with the gray morning light.

Knees tucked under my chin, I listened to the world coming awake—a pleasant, comforting sound. Two larks flitted and chirped on the stone wall surrounding the courtyard. On Dauphine Street, a car door opened and shut, then the engine started and was gone. The distant murmur and shuffle of vendors opening booths at the French market rose over the wall. Someone laughed. It all seemed so strange, but soothing at the same time. My personal troubles didn't keep the world from turning. Funny, but that actually made me feel better.

"Good morning." Kat walked toward me, bright smile beaming.

"Morning," I replied, but not as brightly.

In faded jeans and a gray peacoat with her platinum hair twisted in a messy bun, she appeared so much younger than she normally did in her kick-ass attire. She sat next to me and slid a white baker's box across the stone bench. "I thought you'd want some breakfast."

I tried to smile. She opened the box to a tempting assortment—chocolate éclairs, bear claws, cinnamon twists, chocolate-glazed donuts.

"Oh, come on. Chocolate always makes a girl feel better." She picked up an éclair and took a bite, smiling encouragingly.

"He told you?"

She nodded, setting the pastry down, and sighed.

"He told me that Danté soul-sifted you last night and that he'd…possessed your soul before you could get away."

Her eyes dropped, then met mine with a knowing look. More green than black, they held empathy. A horrible thought struck me.

"Danté's taken you before?"

She shook her head. "Not him. Another." She stared at the fountain. "He kept me for a long time and possessed me in every way possible."

Something shifted inside. This bad-ass beautiful woman reeking of confidence and I-don't-take-no-shit attitude had been through an ordeal even worse than mine—dominated and humiliated through pain and shame for the sick pleasure of another.

"How are you holding up?" she asked, her tone sharp.

"Barely."

She wiped her fingers on a napkin in the pastry box and stared at the bench a minute, stalling, it seemed.

"I'm sorry, Gen," she said awkwardly. "I'm just glad Jude was able to get you out of there before he could do worse to you."

"He didn't. I got myself out."

Her eyes widened. "Really?"

I nodded.

"Your Vessel power saved you? That's awesome!"

I nodded again with a shrug.

"Holy hell!" She stood up, pacing in front of me. "Don't you see? Don't you get it?"

"No. What?"

"It's a sign!" She sat down, taking one of my hands and squeezing. "You're the one, Gen, the Vessel in the prophecy! I know it now! Like, I'm absolutely sure of it!"

"What do you mean? What does that prove?"

"Are you kidding me?" She stared, incredulous and wide-eyed. "You're not even fully awakened, and you fought off a demon prince, older than earth, who controls your soul with your blood, and you fought him off in his realm where everything must obey him. As far as I know, it's never been done. I mean, even I couldn't get out on my own. I needed—well, never mind." She shook off the persistent memory marring her face. "I'm certain. You are the Vessel."

She was right. I suppose it was pretty incredible, knowing the power he wielded up until the moment I blasted him.

"Oh man, what I would've done to see his face."

I couldn't help but smile, remembering Danté's wicked eyes widening with confusion.

"It was pretty awesome," I admitted.

"I bet it was." She laughed.

"Kat." I turned serious again. "When I was there, everything, I mean, it was just my soul, but it felt so… I don't know how to explain it."

She nodded, scooting closer on the bench. "Yes, I know what you mean. Our souls, even outside of our bodies, experience emotion and sensation the same as if body and soul were one. But," she said with a grave gleam in her eye, "our bodies complete us, giving us the power of physical form. When we're whole, we're more than body or soul alone. It's difficult to put into words, but just know"—she paused, giving my hand a squeeze—"it will fade. You will heal. And you'll be stronger than before."

I believed her, despite the ache sitting on my heart. After all, she knew from experience.

"Kat, can I ask you, well, did Jude save you when you were…taken?"

She shook her head. "No. It was someone else." A frown creased her pretty brow, and she wouldn't meet my gaze. "It took a very long time for him to get inside the lair of Damas. By the time he came for me, I'd lost all my hope."

Pain tightened her features and pinched her brow. I stayed quiet a moment longer until I couldn't help but ask, "Why did it take so long?"

"He has a deep lair, well-guarded."

"So, this Damas, he's one of the princes?"

A curt nod.

"You said deep. Deep in where?"

She gave me a puzzled look. "In hell, of course."

I flinched. How did I not realize I'd been in hell that whole time? Black fortress in a lifeless void, demonic creatures on watch, serving their lord and master. I laughed at my stupidity, but my heart opened to a wonderful realization.

"You mean I saved myself from the clutches of a demon prince in hell? On my own?"

"Yeah! That's what I'm saying. You're so awesome." She gave me a gentle shove on the shoulder. "You're my hero, Gen."

We both laughed. Though the wound was still raw and fresh, Kat gave me hope. She'd been through worse and survived to be this vibrant and strong warrior. So could I. Hammering broke up our girl-power celebration.

"What's he doing?" Kat asked, peering up at the second-floor window where Jude nailed plywood over the broken window from the inside.

"Oh, he's, um, cleaning up."

"Cleaning up or remodeling?"

"Well, I imagine he'll be doing a little of both."

"Yikes," she said, eyebrows raised. "I'm actually surprised his house is still standing."

"Why do you say that?"

"Genevieve. Seriously?"

"What?"

She scoffed. "Listen, I've known Jude the better part of two centuries, and while he's generally an intense guy, I've never seen him so smitten before. For anyone."

"Smitten?"

"Smitten. Fixated. Obsessed. Bewitched. Whatever you want to call it, he's got it bad."

I felt a warm blush crawl up my cheeks. I glanced at my watch nervously.

"What's up? You late for something?"

"Actually, I will be soon. I've skipped tons of classes since, well, since I met you guys. Mindy is even harassing me about ditching so much class, and she's not exactly the studious type."

Kat smiled. "I wouldn't worry about that. Take a little more time off. You deserve it."

"Are you kidding?" I asked a bit sarcastically. "Go home and lie in bed where I can be alone with my thoughts all day? I don't think so."

She nodded. "Touché, my friend. Well, you can't go without a bodyguard."

"Yeah, I know but—"

"Jude!" she yelled up toward the house.

The man being summoned popped into existence before us, sifting in a snap. Ripped jeans, stained T-shirt, flexed arms, and hammer in hand, he looked like a walking advertisement for Studs-R-Us.

"Down, boy," protested Kat with her hands up. "I didn't do it, whatever it is."

The corner of one side of his mouth twitched. His eyes fell on me, totally unreadable. He seemed to be having difficulty dragging his gaze from me as Kat informed him she was taking me to class.

"I can take her," he said, dark eyes still fixed.

"I'd rather Kat took me," I said, adding quickly, "I need to go by the dojo after class, and it'll be easier to introduce Kat to my dad rather than have to explain, well, you."

I gestured my hand up and down the length of him. Again, his lips almost pulled into a smile but didn't quite make it.

"Why would I be difficult to explain?"

"Well, I don't bring boys, I mean, men, home or to work, and Dad's really protective, so it would just be easier to bring my new friend Kat along so I won't get the third degree."

Kat looped her arm through mine, giving me a cheesy grin with her new title as friend. I wondered if she had many, or any, for that matter. Then I realized that she probably didn't, besides other demon hunters, who were most probably all men. Men like this stubborn slab of steel in front of me. But Jude nodded, finally agreeing, proving me wrong for once.

"Your father has some sense. I like him," he grumbled. I rolled my eyes. "But, Kat, I want check-ins every hour on the hour. And if you so much as think there is company in the vicinity—"

"I know, I know. Sift out ASAP. No problem. I got this."

He gave a tight nod, moving forward as if to embrace me, then seemed to change his mind. He touched my cheek lightly with the back of his knuckles and withdrew.

"I'll see you this afternoon," he said, then sifted back upstairs.

After drivingto my apartment where Mindy was still passed out from the night before, I took a quick shower and changed into jeans and my Witcher sweatshirt. Glancing down at Geralt of Rivia looking badass as ever, it hit me that he bore a strong resemblance to Jude, if he had black hair instead of blond.

I took my time getting dressed, meandering around, fetching more Advil for Mindy and putting it by her bedside. Procrastinating.

"So," Kat said as we backed out of the drive in her car, "why don't you want to go to your Lit class again? I thought you were all into that ancient literature and stuff."

I watched the joggers doing laps through City Park as we drove by.

"I'm not ready to deal with Malcolm."

"Malcolm? Was that the guy with you on the Riverfront that night?"

"Yeah. He's a friend. Well, he was. I don't know. We were friends, then I went on a date with him, and now I've changed my mind. Ugh. Just so awkward."

Kat laughed.

"What?" I asked.

"Oh, nothing. I'd forgotten about this kind of stuff, not that I ever actually dated in my youth. We more or less did the London Season, went to balls, and if you danced too many times with one gentleman, then I suppose that was construed as leading him on as you've done to poor Malcolm."

"Thanks. That makes me feel so much better."

"I'm here to help," she said, giving me a huge grin as she swerved into a parking spot.

"You know, I can't even imagine you in the Victorian era. You just seem to scream twenty-first century."

"I'm very good at adapting." She winked conspiratorially, locking the door with her key fob as we walked toward campus.

"I have no trouble believing that at all. Geez, the men must've been impressive at those balls. All dashing and dapper in their swallow-tailed evening dress?"

"Hmmph," she grunted. Her eyes swirled darkly. "Some, yes. But, a gentleman of the gentry in evening dress is the perfect mask to hide the wolf beneath. They weren't all dashing and dapper."

We walked along the outer buildings.

"Did you ever marry one of these flirtatious Victorian men? One of the dashing, dapper types?"

I regretted the question as soon as it spilled out of my mouth. I could've kicked myself. Her expression turned wistful.

"Yeah. Sure did." Her eyes grew distant and cold with no further explanation. "I'll meet you right here afterwards."

I nodded, ducking into the building. When I glanced back, she'd opened one of those romance novels with a bare-chested hottie on the cover. She was a conundrum, Kat.

I was a little nervous about Latin class after nearly a two-week hiatus. Fortunately, Professor Minga adored me, which made it all that more difficult to outright lie to her, saying I'd had some lingering bug that kept me bedridden. I easily jumped into the lesson, translating a passage of Cicero. Mary was seated at the desk next to me.

"Where have you been?" she whispered as I opened to the passage I was assigned. "Were you really sick?"

I shrugged. "A little," I half lied, for I had gotten quite a few injuries recently. "I've had some personal stuff to deal with."

Mary accepted that excuse with a nod, focusing back on her work. She wasn't the nosy type.

I took a deep breath and read Cicero's words. As I started to scribble the translation in the margin beneath the passage, my hands began to shake. How could I possibly have returned on this day to translate this specific passage? I couldn't go beyond what was already translated, but just stared down at the words.

Professor Minga stopped by my desk, pushing her spectacles up on the bridge of her nose. Kind, pale blue eyes examined me.

"Is there a problem, Genevieve?"

"No, ma'am. I was just thinking about this passage. Is this correct?"

"Read it to me."

So I did.

"Be sure that it is not you that is mortal, but only your body. For that man whom your outward form reveals is not yourself. The spirit is the true self, not the physical figure."

"Perfectus. It seems time off hasn't made you rusty at all. Why the frown?"

Professor Minga didn't mince words. She said what she thought, and I liked that.

"I was wondering about the meaning of what Cicero is saying here. About the body and the soul."

"Ah. Yes. Well, Cicero was a pagan like the rest of the Romans, but he also had high ideals and believed in an afterlife. He often professed that man's deeds on earth determined the goodness or foulness of his soul and thus affected them in the eternal realm. Here, he is concerned with eternal death if the mortal man abuses his soul through his physical form."

"Do you believe that, Professor? That the soul can be eternally damned if it is damaged?"

Her nose twitched as she pushed her glasses up another half inch. My heart was in my throat, waiting for her answer.

"In my mind, that would depend upon the person's intent in doing the damage. Sometimes we are injured regardless of what we say or do. Am I right?"

She had no idea how right she was. I sighed with a sense of odd relief at her cryptic words.

"Right," I agreed.

She nodded with satisfaction. Her duty done, she moved on to Mary.

My question, of course came from the ghastly thought that Danté could've damaged me permanently last night, opening old wounds I'd all but forgotten. Wounds that stirred fear and anger in my heart. The body and soul are separate entities, one reflecting the other.

I thought of Jude. His body was beautiful to the extreme. Did it reflect his inner self? Or keep his true self hidden?

I packed up and found Kat right outside the building on a bench where I'd left her, engrossed in her romance. Her expression of deep concentration made me laugh.

"Is it a good story?"

She popped up as we headed back across campus. "It's so thrilling," she squeaked. She pointed to the title on the cover. "Captain Sparr's Captive. I mean, there's this pirate, Captain Sparr, you see. And Violet, that's the girl, she's on a voyage with the British troops to the new colonies in America when the pirates attack. And when she's captured, oh my gosh, the captain keeps her captive and—"

"Kat! You're blushing so bad." I laughed. I'd never seen her stumble over her words.

"I can't believe people write stuff like this!"

"Okay, Kat. You actually witnessed the sexual revolution firsthand, right?"

"Yes, but, I don't know. There's something about reading the words combined with your own imagination that's so intense! Oops," she said, pulling out her iPhone vibrating in her coat pocket. "Every hour on the hour, that man."

"What's our orders? Back to his house pronto?" I asked as lightly as I could.

"No. He wants us to meet him at Drago's for dinner after your karate class," she said with a question in her voice.

"Drago's?"

I was taken aback, wondering why he'd want to meet there. Drago's was a four-star restaurant in the Riverfront Hilton over on Canal Street. While Kat texted him back, I glanced down at my frumpy attire. I was definitely not dressed for the occasion. Kat snorted when her phone vibrated a response.

"Smart-ass," she mumbled.

"What?"

"I asked him why we're meeting there. His reply was ‘to eat'. Dinner reservations for six o'clock, and don't be late are his orders."

I smiled. Playful Jude was back.

"Well, I'll have to go shower and change from the dojo. I can't go there like this."

"Neither can I," she agreed, waving to her faded jeans with a trendy rip at the knee. "What time does your last karate class end?"

"Five o'clock, but I can get Erik to cover for me so we can jet a little early. He practically runs the dojo with my dad."

"Cool. Well, let's go kick some karate butt. Well, you can, anyway. I've got a date with Violet and Captain Sparr." She winked and waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

As it turned out, Erik called in sick, but thankfully, Dad took the class for me. He fell in love with my "new friend" Kat. But who wouldn't? She put on a particular smile, the one I'd dubbed her Victorian-coquette smile, and he melted like butter. My dad was a sucker for a pretty face. With a hug and a kiss and assurances that I would be careful going out (with my demon-hunter friend), we were off.

At my apartment, I dressed in black slacks, a green silk top that billowed away from my torso, and modest heels, a weak attempt to be more invisible. Kat angled her head to the side and put me in my place.

"Gen," she said with a sad sigh, "dressing like a secretary won't hide who you are. You're a Vessel. You're stronger than you think. You'll be stronger yet." She put her hands on my shoulders. "Trust me. One of these days, you'll be able to turn assholes like Danté into ash with a glance."

I straightened. "I wish that day were now."

"Soon." She pushed me back toward my closet. "Now go put something on that says, ‘I'm Genevieve Drake, bitches.'"

I stopped in front of the mirror next to my closet, seeing self-doubt weigh me down like a heavy cloak.

There are pivotal moments in every person's life. Take this path, and you will become this. Take that path, and you will become that.

Like the day I returned to school after my mother killed herself. The mean girls of fifth grade whispered in a corner about how I'd end up crazy and suicidal just like my mother. I had two paths—retreat or stand tall. I chose the latter, thrusting my tiny fist in their faces and threatening to punch their pretty little noses crooked if they ever talked about me or my mother again. It was a pivotal moment.

After that, I became less afraid because I chose to become less afraid. I realized that we are the choices we make, not just what the world chooses to make us. Even though I still had to face the Brenda Blakes of the world, I always rallied myself and remembered who I was.

This was one of those pivotal moments, and I knew it. Does Danté win and rule me with fear and hatred? Or do I keep myself whole? I stared in the mirror at the timid blue-eyed girl, not recognizing her. I inhaled sharply and lifted my chin a tad higher.

"Right."

I pulled out the black dress I'd bought on a sale at Saks, but had never worn. It fit elegantly against my body to the knee, but not tight. Classy. With semi-high heels, I felt…pretty. Confident. I left my hair down with a quick, natural application of makeup and stepped back into the living room where Kat waited.

"Much better," she said with a wink.

We then ran by Kat's hotel in the Quarter. Three outfits later, she wore a tight red dress revealing a hell of a lot more than mine as if she were dressing up for someone in particular. Somehow, I knew she was.